Someone who calls me lovely
by Loveedith
Summary: Starts with the last Edith/Anthony scene in CS, ends in 1963. Love that scene, him saying what he thinks he should but obviously doesn't want to, and her taking no nonsense. So sweet. Enjoyed writing this story very much. Downton belongs to Julian Fellowes and ITV. But I think Lady Edith and Sir Anthony also belong to Laura Carmichael and Robert Bathurst, who play them so adorably.
1. Tea with Sir Anthony

Chapter 1. Tea with Sir Anthony

"I know you are going to say no," she started her invitation for a drive in her car.

What a way to start an invitation! And of course he did say no, what had she expected, putting the word in his mouth like that!

Edith was sadly aware that she had done this man wrong. He had always been kind and considerate, to her and to everyone else, and she had let him be caught in the fire between herself and Mary. Making a silly bet on him, and then letting one thing lead to another in her anger and frustration. She blushed to think she could have been so foolish. He had lost some of his self-assurance there, she was sure, and now she was desperate to give it back to him.

Today he had looked surprised and not very pleased when his butler announced her arrival. When she entered the room she caught a glimpse of that fading look before he greeted her with a forced smile. Maybe this was not such a good idea after all, Edith had thought. But it was too late to change her mind.

At least he didn't look scared. She could still remember that first look of panic in his face when they met in her grannie's parlour. It was the first time they saw each other since that disastrous time at the garden party the day the war broke out and all her dreams were shattered. Obviously he had feared meeting her again just as much as she had feared meeting him. But perhaps he hadn't also longed for it, as she had.

The rest of that afternoon had been very agreeable though. He had said it was a pleasant surprise to see her. They had been chatting away about this and that and everything, just as they used to. He was interested in so many things, they always seemed to have a lot to talk about. The presence of her grandmother had made their conversation a little restrained, or at least Edith thought so. But it was still wonderful to see him and speak to him again.

During the days that went by after that meeting she had thought of him almost constantly. He was so sweet and kind and handsome and intelligent. He had the bluest eyes and the warmest smile. She had hoped to meet him soon again, maybe bump into him by chance in the village or in Ripon. Or better still, to have him come knocking at their door to invite her out, like he used to, all that long time ago, before the war.

After almost two weeks of futile waiting, Edith knew that wasn't going to happen. She finally decided she must go and look for him herself. And here she was, standing just inside the door to his library, not knowing what to do with herself now that he had turned down her invitation.

She took in the room, books and writing material all over the place. He was obviously working hard on some of his many projects. So he really seemed to be busy, she noted with relief, it wasn't just a pretence.

She loved this room, even more than she loved the grander library at Downton. She had been here before, having tea with him, talking and laughing, having him going around to fetch books he wanted to show her. And teaching her how to do calculations on a slide rule.

He was very proud of his collection of books. He had books of science and mechanics and mathematics and books about different aspects of farming, beside the usual books of history, biology and geography. And a big collection of novels of course, both new and older, both English and foreign, both translated ones and quite a lot in German and French as well.

At last he seemed to notice how embarrassed she was. He offered her a cup of tea and a seat. She was happy to accept that, much more happy than such a small thing really motivated. At least he wasn't trying to get rid of her as fast as possible.

She took a closer look at him now, while she sat down on the sofa. He looked a bit older than before the war, she had to admit. He was thinner and his shoulders slightly bent. He had a quiet ache in his face that she knew hadn't been there before the war. And his rich blond hair had turned partly grey. But apart from that he was still the same man. The man who had lighted up her miserable youth during those few, enchanted months before the war when he had been courting her and she had led herself to believe that it was not only possible but quite natural for someone to love her.

He told her he was glad to have her for himself for a moment. That made her heart flutter with expectation, but just for a few seconds. After that he told her she shouldn't expect them to 'take out together' again.

At least that gave her the chance to tell him that what Mary had said that time wasn't true. She hadn't been able to talk about that last time, when her granny was present.

He surprised her with his reaction to that. More than five years of remorse and trepidation, and he just brushed it aside. "If you say it wasn't true I'm sure it wasn't." Just like that. So full of trust in her! She was more relieved than she had ever expected to be. And dangerously on her way to fall in love with him all over again.

Edith hadn't known at the time what exactly Mary had said to him. But some days after the garden party she had finally found the courage to go and apology for it, whatever it was. But then it was already too late. She only saw his butler who told her Sir Anthony had left, volunteering for the war. It was the same butler that had let her in today, and Edith got a feeling he resented her. Probably he thought she had caused Sir Anthony to leave by turning down his proposal. That was not strictly true of course, but still true enough to hammer on Edith's conscience.

The first year or two of the war she had thought of Anthony almost constantly. He was in her thoughts and fears during the day and in her dreams and night-mares during the night. She had worried he would get hurt or even killed. She had resented seeing young, healthy men still not in uniform, when he, who was almost as old as her father, was risking his life out there.

She never got any news of him, and gradually the memory of him faded away, and she realised she couldn't even remember what he looked like any more. Very tall, very blond, very blue-eyed of course, but his face was all a blur to her. She was sad then, and felt like she had betrayed him. But it made it possible for her to move on, which in a way was a relief.

It was then she decided to learn how to drive. She was fed up with just sitting at home doing nothing. There wasn't even any guests to dinner any more, only Granny and sometimes cousin Isobel. Driving had been fun but difficult, and when she had finally mastered it she had been extremely proud of herself. She also learned some engine mechanics, which she enjoyed even more and seemed to have more talent for than the actual driving.

Now she heard Antony talking about how wrong he was for her. Too old, and a cripple. Needing a nurse and not a wife. And that he couldn't do that to someone "as young and as lovely" as her.

She hated to hear him say all that. And she wouldn't let it go unchallenged. Especially since he had ended his little speech with a sweet and loving smile.

"If you think I'm going to give up on someone who calls me lovely..."

Edith could have bitten her tongue. That didn't come out at all like she had meant it. More like she was starved of compliments. Which in a way was true of course, but not what she wanted to tell him. And it sounded like she would throw herself at any man who said something remotely nice to her. Which was definitely not true, not any longer at least. That thing with farmer Drake was an exception that would never happen again and still made her blush. She had regretted it the very same evening. The man was married with children for heavens sake, and Edith wasn't even the slightest bit in love with him. She was just flattered and curious. It had cost her a job she had enjoyed a great deal more than that kiss. She was lucky it hadn't caused more scandal than that, everyone involved had kept their mouths shut.

No, what Edith had meant to say to Sir Anthony was more like: "You can't be expecting me to give up on you when you call me lovely". It was _him_ she wouldn't give up on. She wanted him to know that she didn't think of him as old or a cripple, whatever he himself might think. She wanted to get him out of this miserable, self-deprecatory mood he seemed to be in.

When the butler had poured the tea and left the room Sir Anthony took his teacup and came over to sit down at the other side of the small table. He offered her a scone and then took one himself. She watched with fascination as he took a knife, put the scone on a plate, cut it in halves and then spread the two pieces with butter and jam, all with his left hand. He seemed to be used to doing that, and did it now without any hesitation.

"How good you are at doing things with only one hand!"

Maybe that was a stupid thing to say, remarking on his injury, but she was so impressed.

He didn't seem to mind though.

"Well, I have had a lot of training by now. And I am really left-handed to begin with. They made me change when I learned to write at school. I hated it so!"

A floating vision of a very young Sir Anthony flashed through Edith's mind. Blue eyed and skinny, with grazed knees and his blond hair all in a tousle, coming to school and being told he was using the wrong hand. So sweet! She wished she had known that little boy, she hardly met any boys except Patrick when she was little. But she couldn't have known Anthony then of course, her parents being just a few years older than him.

"Well, I guess no-one will ever tell me again that I have to use my right hand," he added with a short, bitter laugh.

They had their tea, talking about neutral but interesting things. How the farming was getting on. Some new equipment he was planning to buy. The latest news from the morning papers. Things like that. It felt so good to be with him again, so very comfortable.

Oh, if things had just been slightly different that time! Then she would have been married to this sweet and thoughtful man by now. Happily married, for more than five years. This would be her home now as well as his. They would be running the estate together. They would have one or two children playing on the lawn outside the windows. And maybe another one growing inside her. She would have loved that!

"Were you really going to propose to me at that garden party?" she suddenly blurted out.

He nearly choked on his tea. He had obviously never expected her to ask such a question.

"Or were you just leading me down the garden path?" she continued with a shy little smile.

That shook him up a bit.

"Oh well I... I mean...I" he stuttered, before he calmed down again. "Well... of course I was going to propose to you. I had told you so, hadn't I?" He was lost in thought for a moment.

"But you know what happened. I should never have believed what she said about you. I should have trusted you. I'm so sorry if I hurt you." he continued.

"Well, the only thing is that I don't understand why you think you are too old for me now, when you didn't think so before the war, that's all," she said, trying very hard not to sound accusing. "I was just a girl then, only nineteen and you were forty."

He didn't comment on that, just looked at her carefully.

"I think we are much closer in age now, at least you are not twice my age any longer. And I am really grown up by now. If you are older, then so am I."

She sensed he wanted to say something about that, but was holding it back. She was a little scared of what it might be.

Because his attempts to scare her off had had quite the opposite effect. She longed to be with him more than ever.

However she decided that the wisest thing to do now was not to outstay her welcome. Better try to come back another time, if he would only let her.

"Well, I'd better leave then, since you are busy. But I really want to show you that I can drive now. Maybe I can take you for a drive some other time, when you haven't got quite as much to do? What about next week? Would next Wednesday be all right for you? Or Thursday? Please, it would be such fun!" She gave him a shy smile, not knowing what to do if he said no again.

But to her relief he accepted after some long moments of thought.

"Wednesday around two will be fine. We can have tea here first and then you can drive me around for an hour or two if you like. I'd be delighted."

"All right then, see you next Wednesday. Thank you so much for the tea!" Now that she knew she would be allowed to come back, she found it best to take her leave at once. So she got up and went for the door. But just before she closed it behind her she turned around. He was standing by his chair watching her with a longing in his face that he tried to hide once he saw her looking back at him.

And that small, unintended encouragement made her finally find the words she needed to brush aside yet another of his objections. She wished she had said them to every badly wounded soldier she had ever met.

"You are not a cripple, you are a war hero! I'm ever so proud of you!" She gave him a bright smile. Then she closed the door behind her and was gone before he had a chance to answer.

A moment later he couldn't help laughing as he watched her through the window. She was half skipping from the front door to her car, then jumping into the car in the most unladylike fashion. And there was a broad smile all over her face. She was obviously very pleased with something.

He was rather looking forward to next Wednesday, although he knew he had no right to do that. And when he settled down to his calculations again, he had quite some problems concentrating.


	2. Getting ready

Chapter 2. Getting ready

The next Wednesday Sir Anthony had surprised his valet by asking to have a bath tapped up in the morning and not in the evening, as he usually did.

Every single item of clothing he was wearing that day was clean from the laundry as if he was on his way to his own wedding. On top of that he had that bath before getting dressed to be quite sure he would smell of nothing but soap and detergent.

Things could get rather stuffy in a closed car like the one Lady Edith had been driving last time she was there. And he didn't want to smell bad for her. Not that they would get any closer than in the front-seat of that car.

His valet probably would have a few laughs at his expense this afternoon, together with the rest of his staff, but just let them. They would keep a straight face in front of him and Lady Edith, which was the important thing. Besides, how could he deny them a good laugh when he was laughing at himself?

I rather be laughed at than hated by my staff, Sir Anthony thought with a good-natured smile.

Right now this gentleman, whose age was nearer to fifty than forty, was standing by the mirror trying out facial expressions, like a débutante preparing for her first ball. He scrutinised his reflection and couldn't for the life of him understand what it was she saw in him. He looked rather friendly, perhaps, but definitely quite worn and wrinkled. And on top of that it was the problem with his arm.

He wondered why he had agreed to this drive at all, but of course he knew why. Because she had looked at him pleadingly with those big, brown, fawn-like eyes of hers, and he just wasn't able to say no.

He couldn't bear to see her unhappy. He couldn't bear to make her unhappy.

He wondered what she was like as a driver. He hoped he wouldn't have to fear for his life.

A war hero, she had called him, well nothing could be more wrong than that! He hadn't been brave at all when he enlisted, he had only felt that his life was no longer worth living. It is easy to risk something you don't want.

Come to think about it he had lied about his age to be able to enlist, telling them he was 38 when in reality he was 40. Maybe that was brave. But he knew it wasn't, he only went to war because he couldn't face ever seeing Edith again. Besides he was very fit for his age, and had no problem getting through the physical tests and examinations, so it wasn't such a big lie. He wondered why no one ever found out, though.

And when he finally did see Edith again, it was more lovely than anything else, and nothing at all to be afraid of. He had worried so about meeting her again, worried about telling her about his injury, worried about what she might think about him after that proposal that never happened. But it had all gone down very well, she had been sweet and understanding and sympathetic. They had been talking together like they had never been apart. And she was so beautiful, more beautiful than ever.

He had gone home from that meeting quite elated. It had all suddenly seemed so very possible again.

But after thinking through the whole thing thoroughly for some days he had decided that he must not take up with her again. Not ever. He really couldn't do that to her, him being as old as he was and his arm being the way it was. Even if he loved her. Or maybe just because he loved her.

He thought about that evening many years ago when he made an unannounced call at Downton to ask Lady Edith out for a concert. That had been quite a dilemma for him. Once more he was invited to a dinner by Lady Grantham. He feared he would be placed by Lady Mary again, as some kind of compensation for her declining his invitation for a drive earlier on. But it would have been a waste of everybody's time. He was as little interested in Lady Mary as she was in him. Lady Edith, on the other hand, that was something very different. He had been quite charmed by her during their car-spin, and he would love to have a chance to get to know her a little better.

His friend Lady Jarvis had come up with the idea when he told her of his predicament. She said he should invite Lady Edith out while all the family was present. Maybe to that concert in York? If Lady Edith accepted they were both welcome to some supper after the concert with her and her husband, Jarvis Hall being close by the road from York to Downton Abbey.

It had all paid off very neatly. On the Grantham's dinner two days later he was seated by Lady Edith. Lady Mary was seated by Matthew Crawley, the future heir, and seemed very happy about that arrangement. And Lady Edith was wearing that wonderful green dress! He hardly dared look at her. It had all in all been a wonderful evening, and the trip to the concert some time later had been even better. Lady Jarvis had been teasing him afterwards about how infatuated he seemed to be with the girl, but he could take that. After all it was true.

He had got a little worried when he first saw Edith on the evening that he made that invitation. She seemed quite unhappy, looking down at the floor, when he started talking about those tickets, so he was afraid she would say no. But he soon understood why, the whole family seemed to presume he was inviting Lady Mary out. When he said it was Lady Edith he wanted to ask, she brightened up in the most wonderful way. He had never seen her so beautiful. He had never seen anything so beautiful. And he was very pleased with himself because he had managed to make her so happy.

He was almost sure it was that evening he started to fall in love with her. And, truth be told, he had never really fallen out of it since. Not even when he thought she regarded him as a ghastly old bore, as her sister had told him on that garden party.

That sight of her, with her bright, happy smile all over her face and her breasts heaving in that wonderful green dress, was what had got him through that horrible war, through the injury and the long months at the hospital.

And a sudden flash of what she had looked like on that evening was what had suddenly made him quite certain that he had wronged her, on that day at the garden party. But by then it was to late, he was already on his way to the front. But it had made him value his life again, being a little more careful, not that it had in the long run kept him from being wounded.

Now he was sitting in his library, tea-tray on the little round table, reading a book and awaiting her arrival. The room was in better order than last time. Most of the books were put back in the shelves, he was almost finished with that work.

She had told him she wouldn't give up on him. There was something alluring in being sought after by a woman, he had to admit. Playing hard to get, wasn't that what women were supposed to do? Well, Edith was outspoken enough about what she wanted, he must admit. Wearing her heart on her sleeve, so to speak. Which didn't make him think any less of her, quite the contrary. He wasn't much in favour of games and pretence.

But still he had to stop this now, he just had to.

He decided to tell her after their drive that this was the last time he would see her alone. But he was quite sure she wouldn't accept that.

All through these unhappy thoughts he had a flutter of butterflies in his stomach. He wanted her to give up on him, of course he did. Well, didn't he? And he definitely wouldn't pursue her, because he knew he had no right to. But how would he manage to let her go when every fibre in his body, including most of his brain, told him he wanted nothing better than to be together with her every single day for the rest of his life? And when he couldn't manage to think straight whenever they were closer than five yards from each other.

He wished things were easier, for her sake. He wished he could do the right thing without hurting Edith. He wished she could see that she deserved someone who was so much better than him. Someone younger, someone who wasn't a cripple. But the most important reason he had for letting her go he hardly dared even think of. He was scared. He was so scared of disappointing her.

Someone had to give up. Only time would tell who was the strongest of them.

And with a feeling that was more like relief than sorrow he realised that it was very unlikely that it would be himself.


	3. Dressing for a drive

Chapter 3. Dressing for a drive

Lady Edith Crawley, second daughter to the Earl of Grantham, looked into her wardrobe with a critical eye. She had gone through all the clothes that were suitable to drive in already, and discarded them one after another, putting them down on her bed. They all made her look too young and too beautiful.

How was one to dress to impress a man who thought you were too good for him? This was really a whole new problem for her.

Fishing with no bait, she thought with a small laugh. She wondered what Sir Anthony would say if she told him Mary had said that about her. He would probably be upset. For him she was more likely a bait that was to big to swallow, she thought with a smirk.

She had thought about their last meeting over and over again, replaying all that he had said about the two of them in her head. He had said she should give up on him, because he was too old. But he hadn't said that she was too young for him. And he had said she should give up on him because he was a cripple. Yet he had used that left hand to perfection. If the right arm was his only injury she couldn't understand that he would need a nurse. Or why he wouldn't like to have a wife. Or more specifically, her as a wife.

And he had admitted that he would have proposed to her that time! She had thought so, but she hadn't been quite sure until now. And since she knew for certain that she would have accepted, she could see nothing wrong in pursuing him. They were practically married already, in a way.

After all, all he had told her were reasons for her not marrying him. Not for him not marrying her.

She looked down on the heap of clothes on her bed and decided she had got it all wrong. What she wanted to prove to him was that he was worth having. Not prove that she herself wasn't. And he wouldn't see that he was special to her if she dressed in rags when she visited him.

She wanted to look good for him.

So she took up a sea-green dress that she knew he hadn't seen before. She held it in front of her and looked into the mirror, unusually satisfied with what she saw. That colour made her hair look softer and her eyes look brighter. And that smile on her face when she thought about him - she knew she looked so much better when she smiled.

She had almost made up her mind now. She was going to have him. And if it would take a week or a year to get him to see things her way really wouldn't matter. She was going to become Lady Strallan, whether he liked it or not.

And by the time it would happen, she would see to it that he did like it. She had every intention to make this good for him. To be a good wife, no, a wonderful wife, the best one ever. He deserved that. She had every intention to make him happy.

Because she loved him.

She had thought that through also. Was she really doing this for the right reasons?

Because there were complications, of course there were. Life is full of complications. She couldn't do this out of pity, he would hate that. And you can't live your life with someone because of pity, build a marriage on that. That was not a marriage worth having, not for the pitied, nor for the pitying. But she didn't really pity him, she just wanted to shake him up a bit. Make him stop focusing on his limitations, see his own worth. Because she looked up to him in so many different ways, it wasn't just that he was so tall. He was a genuinely good human being. She could never find a better man to live her life with.

The other problem was her bad conscience. She was fairly sure that if she hadn't had that fight with Mary, if she hadn't written that awful letter, he would never have volunteered for the war. He would have stayed at home, married her. And he would still have the use of his arm. A bad conscience is not a good foundation for a marriage. It could be hard seeing his bad arm every day and knowing that was something she had caused. This was really difficult for her, but what he said the other day had softened it a little. That he should never have believed what Mary said about her. That he should have trusted Edith. That made her guilt a little less heavy, but it was still something she had to live with, if she wanted to live with him. There was no way she could make that injury go away.

But at least she didn't want him because she felt guilty. She wanted him in spite of that.

And she wanted him so badly.

She longed so very, very much to be able to kiss him, she had longed for that for so many years. She wondered when she would succeed in that. He had never actually kissed her mouth during those months they were going out together. And she had been too shy to ask, overwhelmed at having a man's attention like that at last. His arm across her shoulders or down her waist while they were walking together on his estate. His hand playing with her hair. Some chaste kisses on her cheek or forehead or on the top of her head, he was so tall. Quite a few embraces. Holding her hand, their fingers intertwined.

He had probably been saving his real kisses till after that proposal. He was a little old-fashioned in that respect, even if he had the most modern and mechanised estate of all those she knew of.

The only man who had ever kissed her was actually farmer Drake. That was really depressing! Well, that had to be changed!

She called Anna to help her with the dress, and soon after that she was on her way.


	4. Thunder and lightning

Chapter 4 Thunder and lightning

Clouds were beginning to gather when they finally were driving off in that car. She had planned to drive them down to a nice place by a small lake, a place with a bench, were they had been resting on one of their many drives together before the war. But that wouldn't be possible if it was going to rain. Her usual luck!

She had asked him about his injuries during tea. And he had told her that he could feel his arm and hand, but not use them. Too much of the muscles and sinews and bones on the shoulder had been blown to pieces. The doctors had told him that he should never expect to be able to use that arm again. But apart from the arm, he had no other injuries. So in many ways he had been lucky, he told her, luckier than many others. He was lucky just to be still alive. Lucky to be able to have tea with her today.

"You really drive very well", he said after they had been going for a while. "I guess it shouldn't surprise me. I know since before that you are clever and good at many things."

"Thank you! But actually I have no great talent for driving. It's more my stubbornness. Branson thought that I would never learn, but eventually I did."

"Who is Branson?" Sir Anthony asked, a little puzzled.

"My father's chauffeur, don't you remember him? He is the one who taught me how to drive."

"No, I think I never saw your chauffeur. But wait a minute, wasn't he Irish?"

"Yes. He is a nice man. And he was a patient teacher to me. And now he is married to my sister Sybil, so I should really say Tom", she added, thinking it better that he learnt this from her than from anybody else. "I think they are very happy together."

So that was why her parents and grandmother hadn't wanted to attend the wedding! He was really a little shocked by this news, he had to admit. Times were really changing after the war! And her family might not see himself as such a bad suitor for Lady Edith after all.

"You told me last time that you were going to propose to me on that garden party" she said after driving in silence for a while. "I think it is only fair I should tell you I was going to accept."

"I have always thought so, except for the short while I believed your sister", he said with no further comment.

A few moments of awkward silence followed. This is not going down very well, she thought. We always used to have so much to talk about.

"So we could have been married by now", she tried again, but he didn't have anything to say to that either.

The rain had started coming down now, there was the sound of thunder somewhere far away.

And the next thing he said was something she didn't like to hear at all.

"Well, I have thought about what you said the other day", he said. "About me being forty and you only nineteen. I really think now that that was wrong of me. You were far too young, I really shouldn't have..."

"Of course you should!" she interrupted, almost shouting, and the car skidded just a little bit to the left. "You made me so happy! All I cared about before that was to squabble with Mary. I wonder what my life would have been like if I hadn't had at least those memories of love to look back upon during the war."

He was surprised by her intensity. He didn't dare to interrupt her now, especially not since she was driving.

"It wasn't just that you and I had so much to talk about" she continued in a softer voice. "That we were interested in the same things, laughed at the same things. And that you listened to me, cared about what I said. And it was not only that you were the first person since I was very little that I have ever felt truly loved me, without any reservations. Beside that, you made me a better person. You made me want to be a better person. Because you are such a good and sweet man."

He was stunned. Had he really ment so much to her? And had she felt left out in her family, he hadn't noticed. He felt a little ashamed over that.

"Being with you made me stop fighting with Mary", she continued. "We were always fighting before that. It was horrible. But when you and I had been going out for some time I started to feel sorry for Mary. She was always discontent. Nothing was good enough for her. No-one was. She was never ever happy. But I was really happy. So I realised I would rather be me than her. I always envied her before, but not any longer. Because I had you, and I didn't care about anyone else."

He was beginning to understand what was behind Lady Mary's strange behaviour during that garden party. But frankly, he couldn't understand why Edith had envied her sister in the first place.

And he didn't know how to answer her. He knew he had to answer her in some way. Preferably with some other words than the ones that kept popping up in his head: Please Edith, don't be sad! I love you.

The sky had kept getting darker and now it was almost black. The only thing that lighted it up was the occasional bolt of lightning. The rain was pouring down. Edith couldn't see how to drive any more, so she pulled up by the side of the road and stopped the car. She felt uneasy, maybe she had said to much. It was impossible to know what he was thinking, it was so dark and he was still silent.

She had never known it could get so dark in the middle of the day, even in a thunderstorm. She couldn't even see the form of him, let alone any features. If she hadn't known he was there she would have thought she was all alone in that car.

But she knew he was there. Knowing that they were there together, the two of them, in their own little universe, made her suddenly feel comfortable again. Because she knew there was nothing she wanted more than being there with him.

"I can't understand why you would need a nurse", she said suddenly. "If you need one, why don't you hire one? But I think you are doing alright without one."

He agreed to that, saying it was just a kind of expression, he didn't really need a nurse. He had only said it to scare her off. And it was what people would probably think about him.

"I think it would be much nicer for you to have a wife", she added. "I think you would enjoy that. You deserve to be happy. Don't give up on all those things." She was a little afraid of what she had just said. Maybe she had been too outspoken. She couldn't read his face, it was too dark.

He was quiet for a long time. She felt scared of what he might say next. But she decided she must wait for him to speak before she said anything more.

He felt he had to answer in some way, though it wasn't easy. He felt he owed it to her, after all the loving words she had said about him a little while ago. He had to explain to her why it was impossible to marry her, why he didn't dare to. The darkness and the thunder, the intimacy of it all, being there with her in that small car compartment with nature all in a fury outside, made him finally pluck up the courage to utter his worst fears.

"Well you know...those things between husband and wife...what you do in bed to make it a full marriage...well I'm scared that it might be impossible for me... because of my arm."

So that was it, Edith thought, actually feeling some relief. She sensed that at last he had been able to tell her what the real problem was. Why he was so scared of having a relation with her. And she totally understood why he hadn't dared to talk about this before. She was happy that at least now he felt enough confidence in her to say something like that. It must have cost him a great deal of pain and embarrassment, she realised.

And she hoped she had an answer.

"There was a Captain Smiley," she started tentatively, not knowing exactly how to say this. "He was one of the wounded officers in Downton Abbey during the war, a really nice man. I got a letter from him last week."

So now it is coming, he thought. I have misunderstood all of this, all from the beginning. How could I be so stupid. She has someone else. And the pain that gave him was much worse than he could ever have anticipated. He was glad she couldn't see his face in the darkness.

She didn't notice that he had reacted like that. It was dark, after all.

"Well the thing is, he is left-handed, just like you. Or maybe I should say he was left-handed, because he had his left hand blown off in the war. Only a stump remaining of it. He went home and he married his childhood sweetheart, just after the war."

"Oh", Anthony said, feeling stupid again. He didn't know exactly where she was going with this, but he felt such relief that this man was obviously only a friend.

"Well, he wrote to me last week to tell me they are going to have a baby! I am so happy for them!" she continued. "So please don't worry, Anthony. If they can, so can we. We will find a way."

We will find a way! Had she really said that? Not 'you will manage alright' but 'we will find a way'! She was such a remarkable woman, quite unbelievable. She had managed to say exactly what he needed to hear. Making this their problem to solve together, and not just his to handle alone.

"We will find a way", she repeated. "We just have to. Because we must have a full marriage."

He hadn't yet found the words to answer her, but that was good too. He would have hated it if she had said that those things didn't matter. Because they did.

His thoughts and his feelings where all in a muddle in his usually so well-organised brain. He didn't even notice that she seemed to take it for granted that they were going to have a marriage at all.

"Because I love you, Anthony", she continued with a shy smile that he couldn't see in the near darkness.

By the next bolt of lightning he saw her face, her eyes full of worry that she might have said too much.

He reached out to her with his good hand and put it under her chin, so he would be able to find her lips when the light was gone again.

"I love you too, Edith", he said simply. Then he leaned into the darkness to kiss her.

As they let go of each other again, many minutes later, and she leaned back on the driver's seat, her head was spinning and her heart was thumping. She was hardly able to catch her breath.

She realised she had just got her first kiss. And her second. An her third. She had stopped counting when she felt his tongue between her lips, slowly entering her open mouth - when had she opened that? What followed after that was sheer feeling. Sheer bliss.

She wondered if she affected him as much as he did her. She certainly hoped so.

"I do love you, Edith", he said huskily, his large hand still on her face, tenderly stroking her cheek. "I love you so very much. And you really are lovely."

It was quite overwhelming, all of it was. He loved her! And he dared to tell her so! And that kiss - no, all those kisses - were entirely his idea. Even though she had been longing to kiss him for so long. Even though she had kissed him back so eagerly.

As the rain stopped and the light returned she knew she wouldn't push him any more. She wouldn't have to and she didn't want to. Those kisses proved to her that he had made up his mind. So let him take the time he needed, do it the way he wanted.

She always managed to say the wrong thing, but in some inconceivable way, today, it seemed that she had managed to find exactly the right words. Whatever they could have been.

Because in some mysterious way he had got his courage and self-assurance back. His eyes were sparkling and to Edith he looked twenty years younger than that day in his library only one week ago. He looked like the old Anthony, the Anthony she had known before the war. She loved that.

She loved him so very much. And she told him that, once again.

He kissed her again then, even more fervently this time when they were able to see each other.

When he finally let go of her again, she leant back in the driver's seat with a satisfied sigh, giving him a broad smile.

"After all", she said, finishing that thought she had begun earlier on, "we do have four good legs and three good arms. I think that will be plenty!"


	5. Love and engine mechanics

Chapter 5 Love and engine mechanics

The next few weeks Lady Edith and Sir Anthony were together almost every day. They went out walking and driving. They attended a local concert. He showed her the estate, what changes had been made since before the war. They even went to the Theatre in York, which was quite a hike. Three weeks and a thousand kisses later he proposed to her on that bench down by the small lake. She accepted without a moment of hesitation. She had waited for that proposal for almost six years after all, and had plenty of time to think it over carefully.

...

A few months after that they got married. Anthony had never seen anything more beautiful than Edith in that wedding gown, coming down the aisle at her father's arm. The Earl seemed quite reluctant to hand over his beautiful young daughter to that dull old man with only one functioning arm. Well, who can really blame him, Anthony thought with a good-natured smile. It is lucky for me that ladies nowadays decide themselves who they want to marry.

He even managed to carry her over the threshold with his one arm, he was a tall and strong man and she was so light and slender.

It took Edith quite by surprise to be lifted off her feet like that. And it filled her with delight.

He can carry me! He is so strong! she thought. This will all be awesome!

...

They spent their wedding night in mutual bliss.

Between kissing and cuddling they were making up many different ways to make love with four good legs and three good arms and testing out a couple of them. They made quite a few drawings for further reference, so they shouldn't forget anything interesting that they hadn't time or strength to test that very first night. It has its advantages to be mechanically gifted when you want to do things like that, the human bodies being somewhat like machines, with different parts connecting or going into each other, like nuts and bolts, or cog-wheels, or maybe pistons and cylinders.

They were sketching and laughing more than they were actually making love that night, but still they managed to consummate their marriage to mutual satisfaction long before morning came. And they did have their moments of seriousness, caressing and fondling each other, removing items of clothing and admiring the awesomeness of each other's equipment.

Edith was sure no woman in the world had ever had such an enjoyable wedding-night. Or laughed as much during it.

And of course she told him so. That proud little smile her words elicited on his face was maybe the most wonderful part of this wonderful night. He was so beautiful when he was happy and content.

...

"What would have happened if I hadn't called you lovely that time? If I only said 'someone as young' as you?" he asked her one morning some months after their wedding, sounding a little worried.

She laughed. "Don't even think you could have got rid of me that easy. I liked it a lot that you called me lovely. Very, very much in fact. I took it as quite an encouragement. But I would have kept pestering you anyway. You owed me a proposal, have you forgotten about that?"

But she wasn't sure. It was not just that he called her lovely of course, it was all these other signs that he still cared for her that had made her dare to pursue him. The way he looked at her and the way he smiled at her. Otherwise - who knows. If she had felt that he really didn't want her, she would probably have given up. What else could she have done?

...

Their first little girl was born less than one year after their wedding. They gave her the name Violet. After all it was Lady Violet that had brought the two of them together again, much as she had regretted doing so. This little girl became the favourite great-grandchild of her great-grandmother, although she wasn't a boy. Neither was she a Crawley, so that didn't really matter. Little Violet Strallan was the only child that was ever allowed to play with Lady Violet's many hats with grapes and flowers and feathers, she loved to look at herself in the mirror wearing one of them and a smirk.

Their boy, Anthony, was born a little less than two years after his older sister. He grew up to be the image of his father. He served for a couple of years in the Second World War, but was luckier than his father had been. He got home at the end of the war without a scratch, to his mother's great relief.

Emily, their youngest girl, was born half a year after Sir Anthony's 50th birthday. She studied to be a mathematician, happy of the many roads that lay open to women now, and horrified by her mother's tales of the idle way she and her sisters had spent their childhood and youth.

...

When Violet was born Anthony had worried that she would be ashamed of him. And he was sad that he couldn't toss her up in the air like a real father should. But as she grew older he noticed that she loved him just the way he was, just like her mother did. And when he carried his little girl on his shoulders she was proud to be higher up than any other child in the county.

So when the other children were born, he had stopped worrying.

As the years went by they thought less and less about his bad arm. He was happy about all things he could do, and stopped worrying about what he couldn't do. He had a good life and the injury didn't hinder him much.

...

All three children married and had children of their own. In total Edith and Anthony got eight grandchildren.

In 1963, when Anthony was 89 years old, he heard his 16-year old grandson Jonathan play one of the first Beatles-songs on his record-player, "She loves you, yeah, yeah, yeah." When Anthony heard them sing these words tears came in his eyes.

"I hope someday you will have someone that loves you the way your grandmother loves me", he told his grandson. And something in Jonathan's eyes told him that the boy seemed to think he already had that.

This was so definitely not Anthony's kind of music, but nevertheless it was really the essence of his life. It was such a happy song, and that was what loving Edith and being loved by Edith had been all about. Happiness. Laughing and smiling.

What would have become of him, if she hadn't loved him and come after him that time, so many years ago? None of their wonderful children and grandchildren would ever have been born. He himself would probably have been sleeping in the churchyard for many many years by now, maybe for many decades. Instead he was walking around his estate almost every day, holding Edith's hand in his. Holding it for comfort, fingers intertwined, not for support. He still walked fairly fast without a stick, and his head was as clear as ever. He still kept up to date with the latest development in farming and farm equipment. And he still loved Edith, just as much as ever, though her hair was now grey and her face much more wrinkled than his own had been on that wonderful day of their wedding.

He didn't know how many more years or perhaps only months he would be allowed to walk on the surface of earth. But he promised himself to try to enjoy every minute of that limited time.

And he had to admit that Edith had been right all along, as always. It was much, much nicer to have a wife than a nurse.

...

A/N: This is the end of this story. The story is strictly after CS and before S3, no S3 spoilers included.

Thank you to everyone who has read or reviewed this and my other stories!

I have made the pair of them nineteen and forty on the day the war breaks out, and frankly I would have liked to make their age-difference many, many years less than this, but it wouldn't feel true to the series. I don't want Anthony as old as he probably is in the series. I want the two of them to have a long, happy marriage. And I want their children to be able to grow up before they lose their wonderful father.

Well, it is all make-believe, anyway. My version is, Julian Fellows's version is, everyone elses version is.

This story was finally revised on the fifteenth of September 2012, the night before S3 starts airing in the UK. I know that will make my story AU, but I hope very much that the essence of S3 will be the same as the essence of my story.


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